A Long Winter's Night
by Tiffany Park
Summary: Colonel Makepeace is captured by sinister elf commandos and taken to a strange parallel universe ruled by the despotic, all-powerful Santa Claus. A rather twisted crossover with AU versions of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" (1964) and "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" (1964). An SG-3/Makepeace story written back in 2003, but hey, it's holiday themed.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: A Long Winter's Night

AUTHOR: Tiffany Park

STATUS: Complete

CATEGORY: Humor, Action/Adventure, Crossover, Christmas, List Challenge Response

SPOILERS: A couple of minor references to the quartet of "There But For the Grace of God", "Politics", "Within the Serpent's Grasp", and "The Serpent's Lair"

SEASON: Season Two

PAIRINGS: None

RATING: PG-13

CONTENT WARNINGS: Minor language, cartoon violence. Trampling of cherished childhood memories.

SUMMARY: Colonel Makepeace is captured by sinister elf commandos and taken to a strange parallel universe ruled by the despotic, all-powerful Santa Claus. A rather twisted crossover with AU versions of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" (1964) and "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" (1964).  
ARCHIVE: Ha. Rankin and Bass would probably sic a hit man on me for what I did to their characters.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and its characters are the property of Rankin/Bass Productions. Frosty the Snowman and its characters are the property of Rankin/Bass Productions. Santa Claus Conquers the Martians and its characters are the property of Jalor Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Written for the ColRMakepeaceSG-3 list at YahooGroups. Many thanks to WGKirbyCat for the beta.

Happy holidays, everyone! Heh.

December 2012: This is another fic that I've dredged off my hard drive. It was written ages and ages ago, waaaaay back in 2003. Originally, all my SG-3 stories were written for the Makepeace list at yahoogroups in 2000-2006 or so. Anyhow, this is a Christmas themed story that was never posted anywhere but the list. Dunno if anyone cares about SG-3 fics at this late stage of the game (I'm guessing not), but here you go anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Long Winter's Night**

**by**

**Tiffany Park**

Colonel Makepeace covered his team's six as they stalked through PH1-225's verdant forest. The area was suspected of harboring a Goa'uld presence, the initial MALP surveys had shown an odd structure decorated with known Goa'uld designs. As the team voted most likely to successfully shoot its way out of trouble, SG-3 had been sent to check the place out.

So far, so good. The structure in question had turned out to be nothing more than an odd statue or monument. The Marines had dutifully taken radiation and energy output readings and come up with zip. However, the statue's mere presence was a warning sign of potential trouble, so SG-3 had been ordered to thoroughly recon the area.

They hadn't spotted any people, although they did find signs of habitation in the form of a stone footbridge that crossed a narrow river. They had also located a few rock-paved trails, but they were so densely overgrown that it was clear no one had used them in a long time.

Nonetheless, SG-3 kept silent, staying hidden among the trees and undergrowth, moving in single file as they scouted the terrain. With their transport ring technology, the Goa'uld could be located anywhere. A strong sense of caution was in order, and the Marines kept their senses alert.

So it came as a great surprise when Makepeace felt something cold and hard pressed against his side. He froze.

"Hold it right there, human," a slightly nasal voice said from behind him. "Don't move a muscle, or I'll zap you right where you stand."

Crap. Was that a Jaffa? Whoever it was, he was definitely unfriendly. And where there was one, there were sure to be more. How, Makepeace wondered, had they snuck up behind him like that? He hadn't heard or seen a thing. He tensed, drew a breath to shout a warning to his team, and a sensation like an electrical current ran through his body. He collapsed, limp and twitching, unable to move.

"Dumb-ass," the voice said with contempt. "I warned you, didn't I? But noooo—"

Someone else said, with an air of authority, "Shut up, Jingles. Let's get him off the path before his friends notice he's gone."

"Yes, sir."

Jingles? Whoever heard of a Jaffa named Jingles? Talk about losing something in the translation. Makepeace barely had time to register the absurdity when his captors came into his field of view.

There were six of them, all male. They were short, the tallest barely topping out at four foot five, and at first glance they looked human. Then Makepeace noticed their pointed ears. Wonderful. Runty Vulcans.

They were dressed in gaudy shades of green and red. All carried large devices that looked like peppermint sticks. Other items like candies and other treats hung from their belts. Terrible camouflage, Makepeace thought. Why hadn't he seen these silly characters coming?

The aliens picked him up and carried him a short distance into the woods. They efficiently divested him of his weapons and gear, then tied his hands behind his back with a cord that looked and felt like a black licorice whip.

One of them touched Makepeace on the shoulder with an oversized peppermint stick. A tingle ran through him, and he realized he could move again.

"Get up," the alien said.

Makepeace flexed his wrists. Whatever their looks, the bindings were a lot tougher than licorice. He couldn't even stretch the stuff, let alone break it.

"I told you to get up," the alien repeated impatiently. He sounded like he was accustomed to instant obedience. Probably the leader of this little group.

Awkwardly, Makepeace struggled to his knees, then stood up. It occurred to him that no one had been particularly quiet during this rotten misadventure. Surely his team had heard the racket, or noticed he was missing by now, or something. So where were they?

He squinted back toward the trail, where he thought he saw movement. Lieutenant Johnson soft-stepped into view. SG-3 was backtracking, looking for him. Makepeace saw Johnson glance around, then beckon to his other two teammates and move off—away from Makepeace and the aliens. Makepeace frowned. How could Johnson have missed seeing him? He'd been right in plain sight.

Well, one cry for help ought to fix that problem. He drew a deep breath and opened his mouth.

The leader shrugged. "Go ahead, knock yourself out. Shout your fool head off. Won't make any difference to us."

Fine, he'd do just that. Makepeace yelled at the top of his lungs, "Johnson! Johnson, I'm over here! Andrews! Henderson!"

Nothing. His team acted like they hadn't even heard him, and continued to search in the wrong direction. The runt aliens just stood around him, grinning.

Makepeace tried again, and again, until he had shouted himself hoarse. SG-3 never even noticed. Once, Sergeant Andrews seemed to look straight at him, but then turned away to search a different section of the woods. The aliens snickered among themselves.

"Happy now?" the leader said. "They can't see or hear any of us through the stealth field."

"What—" Makepeace paused to clear his sore throat. "What the heck is a stealth field?"

The leader sneered at his ignorance. "A screening field that camouflages us perfectly with our environment. It prevents any sights, sounds, or smells from escaping its radius. When your friends looked this way, all they saw and heard was the woods."

Ah. That would explain the ease with which these guys had snuck up on him. Sounded like a useful piece of tech. Their present actions didn't seem to indicate an interest in promoting friendly trade relations, however. "Who are you?"

"We are Santa's Elves," the leader intoned solemnly. "The most feared and formidable shock troops in the galaxy. I am Commander Tinsel."

"You have got to be kidding."

Commander Tinsel scowled at him, then spoke into a communications device on his wrist. "Elf Squad One to Rearguard. Come in, Rearguard. Over."

A disembodied voice replied, "Elf Squad One, this is Rearguard. We read you. What's your situation? Over."

"We got one. We're coming in. Over."

A voice replied, "Roger that. Congratulations, Commander. We're ready and waiting. Over and out."

"All right, troops, let's move out," said Tinsel.

A red-haired elf commando gave Makepeace a hard shove. "Come on, time to go see Santa." Strangely, the elf made that particular meeting sound ominous.

The absurdity of the situation getting the better of his common sense, Makepeace said, "I think I'm a little too old to see Santa."

"Nobody's too old to see Santa." Commander Tinsel's voice brimmed with menace.

"Why me?"

"Why not you? Nothing personal, buddy. You were just the most convenient mark."

"So this is just a random snatch? What's the point?"

"Nobody said it was random. Now shut your hole and get moving."

The elves marched Makepeace across the bridge over the river and along a winding path through the woods. He couldn't believe that Santa's elves had kidnapped him. This was all obviously some weird dream or hallucination. Maybe he was having an allergic reaction to alien pollen or a bug bite, or some noxious chemical in the air. Or even worse, maybe his original fear was true and he had been captured by the Goa'uld or their minions, and they were using some mind-altering device on him. If so, it was having some pretty unusual effects, or maybe even malfunctioning. Either way, this had to be some kind of dream. That was the only reasonable explanation.

At last they reached the elves' base. Makepeace counted ten more of the elf commandos, most of whom were busy breaking down the camp and packing gear. One of the elves caught sight of the newly arrived group, jogged up to Tinsel, and saluted.

"Commander, good to see you." The elf stared at Makepeace. "Not much to look at, is he, sir?"

Tinsel chuckled. "True enough, Lieutenant, but I don't care what he looks like, as long as Santa's happy with him."

"Yes, sir."

Makepeace couldn't decide whether he should feel insulted, worry that whatever hallucinogen he'd inadvertently ingested might have long-term side effects, or simply indulge in a bout of hysterics.

The elves wrapped up their packing. Tinsel gave everything an approving once-over. "We about done here?"

The lieutenant confirmed, "Yes, sir. Ready to move out."

Commander Tinsel ordered, "Activate the Reindeer's Horn."

Two elves rolled out a large, silver and gold machine shaped like an empty cornucopia on training wheels. Another elf touched the controls on one side, and the horn emitted a pure, bass note that vibrated deep in Makepeace's bones. The tone dropped lower, and lower, until it could no longer be heard, only felt.

The horn started to grow. Makepeace stared into its cavernous bell and could have sworn he saw stars and snow. The horn kept growing, engulfing the landscape and all the people present.

Then the world turned inside out.


	3. Chapter 3

After what seemed like an eternity, both the world and Makepeace's stomach stopped twisting. Bitter cold slammed into him. Obviously, he had been transported...somewhere. The landscape was silent and frozen. Packed snow and ice crunched underfoot, with tiny ice crystals swirling in a breeze that he might have considered gentle had it not been so horribly frigid. It was night here, and hard, bright stars glittered in the velvet black sky.

The elves pulled out some high-powered flashlights to illuminate the way, and started walking. Makepeace received another shove from behind, and followed his abductors. It seemed pointless to argue the issue. He was woefully underdressed for arctic conditions. The harsh weather pierced straight through his BDUs, and he was shivering violently. Left to his own devices, he would surely freeze to death.

The elves didn't appear to notice the cold. Fortunately, though, they did notice that their prisoner was already suffering from exposure. Someone threw a blanket over Makepeace's shoulders and tied it in place. It helped a little, but he really needed something a lot heavier, like a snowsuit and parka. A woolly hat would be nice, too.

After traveling less than a hundred meters, they came to a tall marker pole set in the ground. Red and white stripes ran along its length, and a printed sign was mounted near the gold ball at the top.

Makepeace stared at the ornate script. "The North Pole?" he said, incredulity overcoming his chattering teeth. In his misery, he'd forgotten that this was all just a demented hallucination. He wished he'd snap out of it, already.

"Home sweet home," Commander Tinsel said. "Come on, it's all downhill from here. Metaphorically speaking, that is." He tapped a few buttons on a hand held device, took a few steps, and vanished into a shimmer of air.

Makepeace considered what little he knew about the elves, and decided that a variation of their "stealth field" was probably at work here. He walked forward, hoping it was warmer inside the camouflage screen.

In that wish he was disappointed. The landscape remained frozen, the air bitterly cold. However, a village straight out of a children's story nestled just down the previously unseen road. The cozy houses looked like they were made of gingerbread. Icing glistened on their cookie-shingled roofs, and candy ornamented their walls and white picket fences. Warm, golden light blazed from sugar-pane windows. Tall candy canes lined the streets, with glowing lanterns hanging from the crooks.

Beyond the village lay an enormous fortress of ice. Its massive, crystalline walls loomed over the town. Towers, parapets, and flying buttresses soared high overhead. The structure radiated imperviousness.

"Let me guess," Makepeace said. "We're going to the Fortress of Solitude over there, right?"

Tinsel said, "You got it, buddy. That's Santa's Ice Palace."

"Some palace." Just looking at the ice-blue monstrosity made him feel even colder. "Any chance of visiting one of those nice gingerbread houses, instead?"

The elves laughed, not kindly. Jingles sneered, "I suppose you want a guided tour of Christmas Town, too."

What kind of twisted Santa Claus lived in a forbidding place like that fortress, with Christmas elves like these evil SOBs? Makepeace gave himself a mental shake to dislodge those thoughts. No sense handing his delusions any fodder for more nightmares.

The elves hurried him down the main road and through Christmas Town. Even on closer inspection, the fantasy houses appeared to be made of sweets. Still, they did look warm and comfortable. He idly wondered how the builders had insulated the gingerbread and candy from the intense cold.

All too soon, the group arrived at Santa's Ice Palace. Guarded by stone-faced Christmas elves, its immense, double doors swung wide open at their approach and closed up behind them with a loud, reverberating boom. Inside was a great, cavernous hall, in which noisy crowds of elves, fairy tale reindeer, green-skinned humanoids in bizarre costumes, and even a few ordinary humans rushed about.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Makepeace was actually rather relieved to be inside. For all its frozen external appearance, the interior of Santa's Ice Palace was pleasantly warm.

The commando party split up, half the group taking the equipment and the Reindeer's Horn to the left. The rest of the elf commandos hustled Makepeace through the crowd. Makepeace noticed that no one seemed particularly surprised to see armed elves dragging a bound prisoner around Santa's palace. That didn't bode well. The elves took him down a corridor, and into a side room.

The small chamber had a fireplace on one wall, with a toasty fire already burning. Desiring a closer acquaintance with heat, Makepeace started to walk over to it.

"Hold on there, cowboy," Tinsel said. "You stand over here. Lieutenant Edgar, go let the big guy know we've arrived with his package." The elf lieutenant nodded and took off.

Edgar? "For Christmas elves, you guys certainly know a lot of American colloquialisms," Makepeace said. "Are you sure you're not just figments of my imagination?"

"You shut up and stand still. I'm going to untie you now, but we've all got stunners aimed right at you, so don't go getting any funny ideas unless you like twitching on the floor."

Makepeace didn't care for the idea at all, so he stood passively while the elf commander removed the blanket and then the licorice whip bonds. He rubbed his wrists, more out of reflex than due to any pain or numbness. The licorice hadn't been that tight, and he hadn't been tied very long. There weren't even any red marks on his skin. It did feel good to move his arms and shoulders again, though.

"You know, this is really starting to get to me," he said, feeling a little giddy. "Will you finally tell me why you kidnapped me? What do you people want?"

"Sorry, pal, but the specifics are Santa's business," Tinsel said. Not a trace of regret marred his pixie face. "Santa wanted to chat with a space traveler from your universe, that's all I know." He gave the word "chat" a nasty emphasis.

"My universe?" Maybe Makepeace wasn't hallucinating, maybe this was real. Could he truly be in a parallel universe? He hadn't traveled though a quantum mirror, as Doctor Jackson had once done, but it seemed that the Reindeer's Horn had served the same purpose. And yet, who could believe in a universe dominated by warped Christmas personages? Nevertheless, he figured he'd better start taking things more seriously, just in case. "Just what makes you think I'm a space traveler?"

"For starters, you don't seem too terribly surprised to hear you're in a completely different universe," Tinsel said, lifting a cynical eyebrow.

"Since I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming, nothing weird's going to surprise me. What else you got?"

Tinsel rolled his eyes. "We saw you and your friends arrive through an artificially generated wormhole. Obviously, you came from another planet. That makes you people space travelers in anyone's book."

"Got bad news for you, but my people didn't build those wormhole devices. We call them Stargates, by the way. Another race altogether created them."

"Tell it to Santa Claus," Tinsel said ominously. "And believe me, you will tell him everything he wants to know, one way or another. Everyone does."

At that moment Lieutenant Edgar returned. A troop of uniformed palace guards had accompanied him. The captain of the guard stepped forward. "Santa wants to see his new guest right now," he said, pointing at Makepeace. He added, almost apologetically, "You too, Commander. He wants an accounting of the mission from the horse's mouth."

"Show time," Tinsel said. "Take my advice, pal," he said to Makepeace. "Be polite...and be cooperative."


	4. Chapter 4

Surrounded by his height-deficient but well-armed escort, Colonel Makepeace stood before the entrance to Santa's throne room. He was pretty sure he didn't want to go in there, but Santa's goons weren't likely to give him a choice. From all the not-so-veiled hints and threats the elves had cheerfully dropped, Makepeace had developed the unpleasant image of Saint Nick as Satan in a Santa suit.

He remembered all the jokes and paranoid conspiracy stories about how Santa was an anagram for Satan. Back in the real world, that had been a joke, and the people who were nutty enough to believe it were considered laughing-stocks. But here, it might very well be a true fact of life. Assuming this world was real and not just a bad dream. No matter what he'd been told, Makepeace still had his doubts.

He studied the lavishly decorated double doors. Garlands of holly with red berries, twined with clusters of candy canes, bright ribbons, and strings of shiny beads, ran all along the door frame. The doors themselves were of a fine, dark hardwood carved in intricate pictures showing old-style Father Christmas themes. Elves in military-styled Christmas finery stood guard on either side of the entrance.

While he waited, he tried to look at the bright side. An audience in the throne room had to be better than getting chucked into a dungeon, right? Would Santa Claus even have a dungeon? Makepeace gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Yes, he decided, this Santa probably would.

One of the guards touched the earpiece nestled inside his pointed ear. "Santa's ready for you guys," he said to Tinsel and the captain.

The guards pulled open the doors. Prodded by his keepers, Makepeace started into the throne room. As he passed through the entrance, he heard the guard on his left mutter, "Poor bastard."

He hesitated at that. Tinsel nudged him forward, saying, "Come on, keep moving. And stand up straight. You don't want Santa to think you've got poor posture, do you?"

"I don't particularly care what he thinks," Makepeace shot back.

"Better keep that attitude to yourself."

"Yeah, I know, or he'll put me on his 'naughty' list."

"Believe it, chum."

Santa's throne room was an enormous, cathedral-like hall, decorated extensively in the omnipresent Christmas theme. Red and green ribbons wound up the massive support columns. Wreaths and garlands of evergreens and holly bedecked the great hall, and gold bells hung from the highest rafters. Small Christmas trees were spaced at regular intervals along the gilded walls. Glass ornaments, silvery tinsel, candy canes and other treats dangled from the branches amid tiny, twinkling Christmas lights. A brilliant red carpet led to the dais at the front of the room.

Makepeace hadn't expected such...excess. It was just like all those Christmas cartoons and Santa movies he'd seen as a kid.

As he walked the long path to the throne, he took a good look at Santa's courtiers, an eclectic collection of elves, humans, more of those green-skinned humanoids, a sprinkling of non-humanoid aliens, and even reindeer. Many crowded forward to gawk at him and whisper among themselves. Makepeace almost tripped over his own feet when one of the reindeer commented loudly and rudely on his lack of fashion sense. Apparently, the buck was underwhelmed by his BDUs.

Talking deer. What next?

"What next" turned out to be a giant, ape-like creature with a blue face and shaggy white fur. A spike-studded metal collar encircled its neck. The thing sat quietly on the floor, watching the proceedings sadly. It was easily three times Makepeace's height, and even seated it towered over everyone else. A robust, red-bearded man holding a bullwhip stood next to the depressed creature, with a motley assortment of dogs frolicking at his feet.

The elf escort stopped, and Makepeace realized he had reached the far end of the hall. He forced himself to look up at the dais, and breathed out a sigh of relief. Upon the golden throne sat the chubby, storybook Santa of his childhood. Rosy cheeks, twinkling blue eyes, and a beard white as snow. He even had dimples.

He was dressed in a brilliant red Santa suit trimmed with white fur. The requisite Santa hat lay on an ornate table next to the throne. Smoke from his pipe wreathed his snowy head, before drifting off toward the huge, glittering Christmas tree that served as backdrop to the dais and throne.

Santa Claus set the pipe aside, pushed his gold-rimmed spectacles higher up on the bridge of his nose, and said in a resonant, full-bodied voice, "So this is my guest from the new universe. Excellent work, Commander Tinsel." Santa looked directly at Makepeace. "Have you no manners, sirrah?"

Makepeace started. "Excuse me?"

"It is customary for prisoners to kneel before their emperor."

Obviously, there would be no ho ho ho'ing from this guy. So much for storybook Santas. "Look, no offense, but I think you've made a mistake."

Tinsel said formally, "Kneel before the all-powerful Santa Claus, Emperor of the Galaxy."

"No."

Silence fell over the court. Makepeace swallowed nervously, but straightened his spine and stood his ground. Santa's imperial status rattled him. He'd been expecting something weird and grandiose, like king of Earth, maybe, but not the whole galaxy. Who needed the Goa'uld, when you had jolly old Saint Nick?

Suddenly, laughter broke through the hush—traditional Santa laughter. Deep belly laughs. Apparently Emperor Santa did do the ho ho ho thing, after all.

The whole court joined Santa in his laughter. The galactic emperor allowed it for a few seconds, then made a sharp gesture. The chorus of sycophantic laughter cut off abruptly.

Santa chortled. "My, you're a spunky thing, aren't you?" He ho ho ho'ed again, his stomach jiggling just as the famous poem "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" described: like a bowl full of jelly.

Makepeace watched it ripple, fascinated, and forgot to be offended at being called spunky.

Santa leaned over toward Tinsel. "It's obvious he's not from around here, isn't it?"

The elf commander replied, "He thought he was dreaming, until I set him straight."

"Is that so?" Santa fixed his twinkling gaze on Makepeace. "Now, what kind of universe do you come from, that you would believe something so silly?"

Makepeace stared into those bright blue eyes, and realized he'd better keep his mouth shut. If this was only a bizarre dream, nothing harmful could come of chatting with Santa, Emperor of the Galaxy. But if this really was a parallel universe, or even just the result of some weird Goa'uld mind control, he could do irreparable harm to Earth.

Santa said, "I'd love to hear about your home. Why don't you tell me all about your universe? A space traveler like you must have all kinds of interesting tales to share." Santa shot a sharp glance at Tinsel. "He is a space traveler, yes?"

Tinsel snapped to attention. "Santa, I myself saw him use one of those artificial wormholes we've been observing to travel between planets."

Santa tapped his fingers together. "Good, good."

Makepeace stiffened at the exchange. These people had already been spying on them, that much was clear. That knowledge made him even more nervous.

Santa lounged casually upon his throne. "Tell me, how do folks get around in your universe? Do they only use the wormholes, or do they also use ships or space folds? How far can you go? Do any of your methods reach beyond your own galaxy?"

Makepeace asked cautiously, "Why do you want to know?"

"Ah, simple curiosity, my boy. We're explorers, here, always reaching outward to understand the unknown." Santa smiled jovially. "I would dearly love to hear about your reality. For example, are the spacefaring worlds in your universe all independent, or are they organized into empires like mine? How similar are our two realities, do you think?"

No way was Makepeace going to answer any of the questions put to him. Especially not those. It sounded like jolly old Saint Nick was planning an invasion.

Santa's fleshy lips twisted in displeasure. "Tut, tut. Don't be so difficult. Tell Santa what he wants to know."

"I don't think I'm going to tell you anything," Makepeace said slowly.

A green man wearing a Santa hat sidled up to the dais. "I do believe he wants to be coaxed, Santa."

Santa Claus said, "I think you're right. Some form of persuasion seems to be in order."

Makepeace definitely didn't like the direction the conversation was taking. Going on the offensive, he asked the green man, "And just who are you?"

The green man gave him a supercilious look. "I am Dropo, Supreme Governor of Mars."

"You're a Martian?" Terrific. And he'd thought things couldn't get any weirder. "I guess that explains the funky green skin. You know, back where I come from, Mars is a dried-out, dead, dump of a dust heap."

While Dropo sputtered, Makepeace glanced around the court. "With all the livestock hanging around in here, I was expecting to see Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I'll bet you didn't know he's a big favorite with the kids back home. There's even a popular song about him." As he spoke, a dainty reindeer doe with pale fur, long eyelashes, and a pink bow on her head caught his eye. She stared hard at him, and minutely shook her head.

"How dare you speak that name in my presence?!" Santa bellowed, launching to his feet. "Don't you ever speak that name again!"

"What name? Rudolph?" Belatedly, Makepeace realized that the court had once again become hushed, the courtiers watching him with anticipation and fear.

Santa's face purpled. Rigid with rage, he glared at Makepeace. Then his posture relaxed, and he sat down on his throne. He raised his pipe and took several deep drags, blowing smoke rings when he exhaled. "Ill-mannered, indeed," he commented to the court at large, "as well as obstinate and uninformative. I did so want to hear all about the new universe, and yet our guest refuses to speak of anything but irrelevancies and forbidden topics."

Dropo laughed unpleasantly. "A little time with the Chief Interrogator would teach him some manners, Santa, and provide you with all the information you desire."

Santa sighed with feigned regret. "Yes, I'm sure you're correct." He waved a languid hand in Makepeace's direction. "To the Tower with you, sirrah."

Alternate universe, substance-induced hallucination, or simple nightmare—at the moment, Makepeace didn't care which. Events had gotten too far out of hand.

Commander Tinsel muttered, "Idiot. You can't say I didn't warn you..." as an elf guard took Makepeace's arm in a firm grip.

Strangely, none of the guards had drawn their weapons. What, did people in this universe just calmly go to get tortured on Santa's say-so? Not him.

Makepeace trapped the elf's hand, putting a joint lock on his wrist, and threw him to the floor. The other elf guards were finally reaching for their peppermint stick stun guns, so he put his head down and charged them like a defensive lineman out to sack a quarterback. The tactic startled them, and they scattered.

He whirled, grabbed the forearm of the guard nearest to him, and twisted the stun weapon out of his grip. The elf backed away when confronted with the business end of the stunner.

Not one of the gawking courtiers offered to join in the ruckus. Makepeace brandished his new weapon threateningly. The courtiers all sidled back, keeping a lot of space between him and them. Even the guards gave him a little more respect, now that he was armed. A fortunate reaction, since Makepeace didn't have the slightest idea how to activate the stupid thing.

He thought that if he could just make it to the door, he'd have a half decent chance of escaping the palace. Where he'd go after that in this frozen wasteland was a big mystery, but even freezing to death sounded better than meeting Santa Claus's pet torturer.

Tinsel said, "You're only making things harder on yourself."

Makepeace smiled grimly. "Oh, I doubt that very much."

"Your choice, pal."

He edged along the red carpeting toward the distant exit, keeping a close eye on the guards. They had recovered from their surprise and were regrouping, and they looked like they were getting their nerve back. One stun stick wouldn't hold them off for long—what Makepeace really needed was a hostage.

The two best choices—Santa and Dropo—were back at the dais, as unreachable as the moon. Likewise, the courtiers had fallen well away from him. Any attempt to grab one of them would open him to attack from the elves. As he considered his dwindling options, he continued moving toward the door.

Several guards rushed him. He whirled toward them, swinging the useless stun stick like a club. In the background, a whip cracked and a gruff male voice commanded, "Bumble! Do your stuff!"

He felt an iron band clamp around one leg. He jerked his head around, caught a glimpse of white fur before he was upended and lifted off the ground. The giant ape dangled him in front of its face. It opened its mouth—and for an instant Makepeace thought it planned to eat him—but it only grunted questioningly. Then Makepeace saw that it didn't have any teeth, just bare, blue gums.

The whip cracked again. "Bumble!" the man yelled over the noise of yapping dogs. "Down!"

The giant ape lowered Makepeace to within a few feet of the ground, into the circle of waiting elf guards. Still upside down, Makepeace twisted in the creature's grip, using his peppermint stun stick to ward off his enemies. He only succeeded for a few seconds before the familiar electric tingle ran through him. His muscles went slack, his stun stick clattered to the floor.

The ape carefully set him on the ground. From his poor vantage point, Makepeace saw two pairs of black boots approach and stand before him.

"Good work, Yukon Cornelius. You've done an excellent job training the Abominable Snow Monster." There was approval in Santa Claus's voice. "You'll be well rewarded for this."

"Thank you, Santa. Always a pleasure," said the ape trainer.


	5. Chapter 5

The elf guards carried Makepeace through the palace and up a very long, spiral staircase. At the top of the stairs they came to a heavy door. The captain of the guards knocked on it, almost timidly.

The door swung open. A blond, blue-eyed elf with an angelic face greeted them. "Ah, you're finally here. Well, bring him in," he said, his voice a pleasant tenor.

The elf guards hurried in, hauling Makepeace with them. "Where do you want him?" the captain asked.

Sounding irritated, the blond elf said, "In the chair, like usual." He muttered, "You'd think they'd know the procedure by now, but noooo."

Quickly, the guards flopped their limp burden into a reclining chair that looked an awful lot like a dentist's chair. Makepeace's head lolled to one side, giving him a sideways view of the world. He was plenty tired of this latest paralysis. That first time back on PH1-225, Tinsel and his commando squad had only kept him paralyzed until they'd tied his hands, but he guessed this time he'd caused too much trouble, and his current keepers didn't trust him to move under his own power without creating more mayhem.

Smart elves.

The guards carefully arranged his arms and legs, then snapped on a set of restraints to hold his limbs in place. His head was positioned upright against the headrest, and another restraint was locked around his neck. Only after the elves had double-checked everything to be certain he was secured did the captain of the guards reverse the paralysis.

The captain leaned down and whispered in Makepeace's ear, "I'd tell him everything, if I were you. He used to be a dentist."

The guards hurried out. While the blond elf closed and locked the door behind them, Makepeace tried to get a look around.

The neck restraint didn't let him turn his head very far, so he couldn't see much more than what was in front of him. It was enough. Like everything else he'd seen on this world, the place was a diabetic's worst nightmare. The restraints at his wrists and ankles—and probably the one at his neck as well—looked like the ubiquitous candy canes. Obviously, a popular motif here. The walls appeared paneled in gingerbread, decorated with frosting, and spun sugar, and candies and— Teeth?

A shelf ran along the wall, and arranged on it was what looked like a complete set of giant teeth. An elephant's choppers weren't that big. Makepeace remembered the toothless Bumble, and thought that the ivory might have once belonged to that poor creature.

In the corner, a large, transparent, cylindrical tank of furiously boiling water rested on some kind of heating device. Odd items whirled amid the churning bubbles: A button, a winter muffler, a few pieces of coal, a corncob pipe, and a top hat. Memory teased; Makepeace scowled. There was something familiar about all that...

Before he could place the memory, the blond elf sauntered over to his side. "Hello there," he said pleasantly. "Before we get started, we should get the niceties out of the way. My name's Hermey. What's yours?"

It occurred to Makepeace that this was the first time anyone had bothered asking his name. No one else, not even Emperor Santa, had been particularly concerned with his identity. He doubted Hermey cared, either, but figured the Chief Interrogator was trying a psychological stunt to disarm him, establishing the beginnings of the twisted intimacy between torturer and victim with a display of false friendliness.

No sense helping him with his task. Name, rank, and service number would mean nothing to these people, but Makepeace wanted to stick with the familiar and, at least at the beginning, set the tone of the "discussion." "Makepeace, Robert F. Rank, colonel. Service number 523—"

"What?" Hermey was laughing. "What kind of name is that?"

Makepeace opted not to answer.

"Not feeling chatty?" Hermey said. "That's odd. Santa complained that you talked a lot but didn't say anything useful or worthwhile." He eyed his prisoner, waiting for a response, then gabbled on, "You have a very interesting and unusual name. Makepeace, Robert F., rank, colonel, service number 523. I don't believe I've ever heard one quite like that. It's kind of long, though, and not very euphonious. Long names really should be more pleasing to the ear. Now, the names of the frost fairies are quite long, even longer than yours, but they have a musical quality that— Well, you probably wouldn't appreciate it. With a name like yours, I imagine your people have tin ears. Do you have something shorter I can call you? A nickname, perhaps?"

"Huh?" Makepeace had tuned out early in the babble-fest, and the question took him by surprise.

"A nickname. Do you have a nickname?" Without waiting for an answer, Hermey went on, "I know, I'll call you Makey. That's a pleasant shortening of that extraordinarily long name of yours, don't you think?"

Makepeace winced. It sounded like something you'd name a dog. "You can call me Colonel Makepeace."

"Don't like Makey, huh? Colonel Makepeace," the elf said, rolling the words around his tongue. "No, that's still a trifle long. Is 'colonel' a military title? It sounds like it. I'll bet it is. I know Commander Tinsel is often referred to only by his title, so that should be okay with you, too. Right, of course it is. So, shall I call you Colonel? Will that do?"

"That'll be fine," Makepeace said weakly.

"Oh, very good." Hermey rubbed his small hands together. "See, we're getting off to a nice start already."

Makepeace stared at him. A nice start? Here he was, strapped into the Dental Chair of Doom, and the Chief Interrogator was taking advantage of his captive audience and talking his ear off. On the positive side, as long as Hermey was chattering like a magpie he wasn't doing...other things.

Makepeace couldn't believe he was going to get tortured by a Christmas elf. A demented Christmas elf. Who was also a former dentist. In a tower decorated with gingerbread, candy, and giant teeth. Sure.

The whole scenario was too weird to be real; no matter what ridiculous story Tinsel had told him about alternate universes, he had to be hallucinating. He just wished it would end already. It had gone on far too long, and kept getting stranger by the minute. And pretty soon it was going to get downright unpleasant.

Hermey walked over to a window and threw open the shutters. "How do you like my tower, Colonel?" he asked as a frigid wind swept into the room. "It's the tallest tower in the entire palace. I know this sort of thing is usually done in a dungeon, but I really like being way up high." He leaned out the window. "Back when I first wanted to become a dentist, all the other elves ridiculed me, stifled me and tried to make me conform to their uptight standards. From here I can look down on all those jerks, and they have to look up at me." Hermey closed the shutters. "And since my duties to Santa have, um, expanded beyond simple dentistry... Well, let's just say that no one makes fun of foolish, misfit Hermey anymore."

He picked up an enormous pair of pliers and pulled up a chair next to Makepeace. "These pliers have sentimental value. I used them for my very first dental job, back when I defanged the Abominable Snow Monster. Those were the days. It was all a great adventure. Yukon Cornelius and I saved Donner's entire family from being eaten, and Rudolph—" He stopped dead. "Well, well, well. No sense living in the past. We might as well get on with things. The sooner we get started, the sooner this unpleasantness will be over."

"No, go on. Tell me about how you defanged the monster," Makepeace said, stalling, hoping the elf would be distracted and continue with his crazy chatter. "I'm fascinated. Really."

"Ah, ah, ah. It's not nice to snow the dentist. Anyway, I'd much rather hear your life story. I've never met a man from another universe before." Hermey fondled his pliers. "Santa has some specific questions, too. I suppose we'd better get those out of the way before we satisfy my idle curiosity."

A strident bell started ringing, so loud it hurt Makepeace's ears. Hermey jumped out of his chair and set his pliers aside. He rushed to a delicately carved wooden cabinet, and threw open its doors to reveal a high tech monitor and communications system. He activated it, and a uniformed elf appeared on the screen.

"What's going on?" Hermey said into the voice pickup. "Why the alarm?"

"Chief Interrogator." The elf looked startled and a little nervous. "Sir, we've got a computer glitch in the security systems. We're trying to track it down."

"Can't you at least shut that bell off? I'm in the middle of something, and your alarm is giving me a dreadful headache."

"We're trying, sir, but— Oh, no!"

"What? What's the matter?"

"The computer crashed! The entire security grid is down!"

"So fix it."

"We're trying, sir—" The elf's image cut off in a burst of static.

"Isn't that just typical?" Hermey flounced back to Makepeace. "All this bell-jangling is very distracting. I'm afraid you'll have to keep your voice raised when you answer Santa's and my questions, at least until the techs get things back under control." He reached for his pliers. "Now, where were we—?"

The window shutters burst open and banged against the tower's walls. Before Makepeace's wondering eyes, five tiny reindeer flew into the tower room. Riding on their backs were elves and Martians.

"No!" Hermey shouted. "Get out of here, you...you pests!"

A reindeer buck with a glowing red nose and an impressive rack of antlers circled the room then gracefully landed. A Martian woman jumped off his back. "Everyone, rescue the alien, quickly!" the buck ordered. "Santa's troops will be here any minute!"

A Martian and an elf ran to Makepeace and started undoing the restraints. The rest of the rescue team surrounded Hermey to prevent him from interfering.

"Rudolph, stop!" Hermey demanded. "You can't keep defying Santa like this! Do you have any idea how angry he is with you already?"

"I don't care. Santa has to be stopped. Someone has to stand up to him before it's too late," the red-nosed reindeer said.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? It's already too late."

An elf called out, "Rudolph, look at this!"

Rudolph turned his head. His eyes widened when he saw the cylinder of boiling water and assorted oddments. "Oh, no! Frosty!" His nose glowing a furious scarlet, he swung around and glared at the Chief Interrogator. "Hermey, how could you? He was our friend!"

"It's nothing personal, Rudolph," Hermey said. "He annoyed Santa, that's all. Insulted him in front of the entire court, in fact. And you know how well Santa responds to criticism."

"That's crazy." Rudolph ordered the elf: "We're taking Frosty, too."

The last of the restraints were pulled away, and Makepeace bolted out of the dentist's chair. A fresh blast of arctic air blew in through the open window, dropping the temperature in the room even more. As Makepeace rubbed his arms against the chill, a buck with a tuft of yellow hair between his antlers came up to him. "Hurry, climb on my back."

Makepeace decided not to ask any questions and to just do as his rescuers told him. Why not? They couldn't be any worse than Evil Santa and his palace of nightmares. As he awkwardly mounted the bare-backed reindeer, there came a pounding at the door. A voice yelled from the other side, "Chief Interrogator! Are you all right? What's going on in there? Open up!"

"Rudolph, we've turned off the heater, but we can't lift Frosty's tank, it's too hot," an elf yelled. "We don't have time to wait for it to cool."

"No! We can't leave Frosty!" Rudolph said.

"We must," an older, more mature reindeer said, "or we'll all be captured. We'll try to come back for him another time."

"Blitzen, no, we can't." Over renewed banging on the door, Rudolph shouted at the elf: "Break the glass!"

"Break it—?" the elf said.

"Yes, break it! The Christmas Wind will do the rest! Hurry!"

The elf snatched Hermey's pliers and bashed them against the cylinder, shattering it into countless jagged fragments. Water gushed out, splattering on the floor, carrying with it the top hat and other items that had been floating in the tank.

Another gust of freezing air howled into the room. The wind swirled around the pool of water, forming a vortex like a mini-tornado. Faster and faster it whirled. In the center of the whirlwind, a familiar shape coalesced. The wind died away, and incredibly a snowman now stood where the puddle of water had been. A snowman wearing a magic top hat, with a corncob pipe, a button nose, and two eyes made out of coal.

Frosty the Snowman said, "Rudolph! What's going on?"

"That's it," Makepeace muttered. "I'm definitely dreaming." His reindeer mount looked back at him curiously.

More banging on the door, then a heavier, rhythmic thumping. Santa's troops were trying to break the door down.

Rudolph shouted, "Everyone out, now! Hurry, let's move!"

"Hang on tight," Makepeace's reindeer advised him. "There's a bit of chop out there tonight."

Makepeace took a firm grip around the creature's neck. The reindeer surged forward, straight for the window. He sailed through the opening, and soared up, and up, and up, into the freezing night.


	6. Chapter 6

The reindeer and their passengers flew through the icy, starry sky. Makepeace clung to his mount, pressing against the fur, seeking warmth against the terrible chill of the rushing wind. The reindeer craned his neck around and looked at him. "How're you doing back there? Still holding on?"

Through chattering teeth, Makepeace replied, "Oh, I'm fine. Just freezing to death, that's all."

"Sorry about that, but it can't be helped. We'll be at the Isle pretty soon."

"The Isle?"

"The Island of Misfit Toys. King Moonracer will give us sanctuary there."

"Santa allows..." His teeth chattered too hard to finish. Makepeace shivered and tried again. "Santa allows another king here?"

The reindeer snorted. "King Moonracer's in a class all by himself. No one messes with him, not even Santa. By the way, my name's Fireball."

"Colonel Robert Makepeace."

"Pleased to meet you."

The stars flashed by. Beyond Christmas Town lay only a lonely, frozen wasteland, with no lights, no fires, no signs of human habitation. Makepeace clenched his fingers in Fireball's fur, wondering if he'd ever be warm again. His eyes scanned ahead, searching for some indication of life in this miserable world, but there was only impenetrable darkness below.

Any time now, he told himself. Any time now, I'm going to wake up, and everything will be fine.

They sailed on into the long winter's night. At last Makepeace saw a glow on the horizon. "Is that where we're going?"

Fireball bobbed his antlered head up and down. "Yup, that's King Moonracer's island. You'll get warmed up there. You humans really could use more fur, or a better layer of fat, or something," he added conversationally. "As you are, you just can't cut it here in the Frozen North."

Makepeace couldn't muster up the energy to be insulted. Besides, at the moment he was in full agreement.

The spot of light grew larger. As they drew closer, Makepeace was finally able to distinguish between the horizon and sky, the sea and land, and saw that the light was coming from a large island. Buildings that looked like oversized doll houses clustered in a flat area surrounded by jagged, frozen peaks. A castle built upon a great mountain of ice overlooked the town.

Rudolph and his reindeer squadron flew right up to the castle's fortified entrance and landed. Their passengers hopped off with surprising grace. Even Frosty the Snowman.

Makepeace dismounted, but stayed between Fireball and another reindeer for warmth. A troop of pint-sized guardsmen came out to greet the newcomers. After everything else that had happened this night, Makepeace had thought he was beyond surprise, but realized he was wrong when he saw that the guards were toy soldiers.

The toy with the most gold braid on his archaic uniform called a greeting. "Ho, Rudolph. Your mission was successful?"

"Oh yes, very," the red-nosed reindeer replied. "We rescued the human, as well as Frosty the Snowman. We must see King Moonracer at once!"

"He awaits you in his throne room."

"Good," said Fireball. "We really need to get this poor human inside. I could hear his teeth chattering for the whole flight. Very distracting."

"Come with us," the toy soldier said.

A stuffed elephant dressed as a footman offered to find suitable accommodations for Frosty outside the castle, which the snowman cheerfully accepted. The rest of Rudolph's group followed the guardsmen past the gates. The interior of the castle was nice and warm, which would account for Frosty's reluctance to enter. While immense, this fortress wasn't intimidating in the least. Makepeace thought that might be because the place seemed populated entirely by animated toys. It was pretty tough to be overawed by dolls, teddy bears, assorted stuffed animals, and choo-choo trains.

King Moonracer's throne room was as impressively large as Emperor Santa's, but there the similarity ended. It was more sparsely decorated, without all the garish and sugary Christmas motifs, and it lacked the crowds of fawning courtiers. In fact, other than for a few toy guards and errand runners, it was almost empty.

At the far end of the throne room, a magnificent winged lion sat regally atop a golden pedestal. His mane was deep brown, thick and luxurious. A crown of gold and rubies rested upon his head.

Rudolph moved forward and bowed his head respectfully. "King Moonracer. We were successful. Not only did we rescue the human from Santa's Ice Palace, but we also found Frosty the Snowman. The fiends had melted him."

"I trust Frosty is well now," said King Moonracer. His mellow voice reverberated in the great hall.

"Oh, yes, sir. The magic of the Christmas Wind reconstituted him, just like always. Your people are taking good care of him."

Gems flashed as King Moonracer nodded, then fixed his intense gaze on Makepeace. "Rudolph, will you introduce your new acquaintance?"

"Oh, right. King Moonracer, may I present to you, uh..." The young buck looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, but, well, in all the hurry..."

Makepeace stepped forward and bobbed his head to the king. "Colonel Robert Makepeace."

King Moonracer inspected him from head to toe. "So, you're the human Santa had abducted from the parallel universe."

"I'm afraid so." Makepeace hesitated, and added, "Sir." The lion king's weighty dignity fairly demanded the courtesy. "I'd like to thank you and your friends for rescuing me."

"You are most welcome." King Moonracer regarded him solemnly.

Oo-kay. How was he supposed to respond? The king obviously expected him to say something, but all the stiff formality had Makepeace stymied. Fortunately, a reindeer doe chose that moment to rush into the throne room.

"Rudolph!" she cried. "You made it!"

"Clarice!" Rudolph ran to meet her. "Thank goodness you got out of Santa's palace." The two reindeer nuzzled each other's faces in an open display of affection.

The lion king looked on tolerantly, Makepeace less so. Trying to conceal his irritation, he studied the newcomer. Her pale fur, long eyelashes, and pink bow were familiar. "Hey, didn't I see you at Santa's court?" he blurted out at her.

She broke away from her boyfriend to look at him. "Yes, you did. I'm glad our people got you out okay."

"In the proverbial nick of time." Makepeace winced at his unintentional pun. "So to speak."

"I am sorry that you had such a scare," she said. "I had to get away from the court to call Rudolph in secret, and then I had to wait until you were reasonably isolated before shutting down the security system and letting the team into the palace."

Prisoner rescues were always fraught with difficulties, and since this one had been successful Makepeace wasn't inclined to quibble. "You're a mole in Santa's court?"

Clarice sighed. "I was, but no longer. As soon as Santa's techs track down the problem with their security software, they'll find the backdoor code and know exactly who put it there. I'm afraid there's no going back for me now."

Rudolph said proudly, "Clarice helped develop a lot of the code and hardware that Santa uses. She knows it all inside out. She even worked on the Reindeer's Horn."

"And I sabotaged it," she said with satisfaction. "At such a fundamental level that they'll never, ever get it working right."

Makepeace said sourly, "Looked to me like it worked all right."

"But it doesn't," Clarice said. "It only goes to that one abandoned planet, and it has mass limitations. Santa would never get a spaceship through. Unfortunately, I didn't know about those wormhole devices in use in your galaxy. Santa and his military advisers immediately started thinking of using that network—"

"For what? From the questions he asked me, I got the impression he was planning an invasion. Is that really what he's got in mind?" Makepeace thought for a moment, and added, "And why the heck is _Santa Claus_ invading and conquering planets, anyway?"

"You make it sound like that's an unusual thing for Santa to do," Rudolph said.

"Where I come from, it's not only unusual, it's unthinkable. He's not real," Makepeace said, "just a children's fable. The modern version of Santa Claus resulted from the evolution of an old religious figure, merged with a lot of consumerism and marketing. He's nothing but a storybook character."

Everyone in King Moonracer's throne room stared at him. "Typical human," someone scoffed.

Clarice said, "As you have discovered, in this universe he is a very real person. Prior to 1964, though, adult humans here on our Earth believed much as you do, that he was just a pleasant fantasy."

"What happened in 1964?" Makepeace asked.

"Santa Claus conquered the Martians," Clarice said sadly.

"Excuse me?"

"Girmar, perhaps you should explain?" Clarice said.

A green-skinned woman sighed. Makepeace recognized her as the woman who had ridden into the Tower on Rudolph. "It's a sad tale of our own foolishness," she said. She stared at her hands, then said, "My father, Kimar, was one of Mars' leaders at the time. He saw that the Martian children watched broadcasts from Earth, broadcasts showing the joys of Christmas and Santa Claus. After doing some research into the subject, he decided that Santa was real, and determined to bring Santa to Mars, for the Martian children." She grimaced. "To put it baldly, he kidnapped Santa Claus."

"I thought Earth people here believed Santa was a myth?" Makepeace asked.

"They did, but that did not stop them from celebrating and telling cheerful Christmas stories," said King Moonracer. "Santa was waiting up at the North Pole, biding his time, letting the legend spread. We all believed it would be a wonderful thing when he finally revealed his existence. But alas, our deluded expectations were not to be."

Girmar continued, "I was very young at the time, but I clearly remember Santa perpetuating his benevolent myth, even on Mars. By the time the adults discovered the truth, it was too late. Santa appointed Dropo his Martian representative, the 'Santa Claus of Mars,' before returning to Earth. To make amends for his terrible mistake, my father organized the Martian rebellion. I continue his work in his memory."

Clarice said, "Using the Martians' spaceship technology, Santa was able to branch out beyond the Solar System. He spread his dominion from one star system to the next, and now he rules the galaxy. None of his long-time, loyal retainers ever knew he had such a taste for conquest."

"That doesn't explain why he sent his goons after me," Makepeace said. "He's got an entire universe to hassle, why is he picking on mine?"

"But he can't get to the rest of our universe," said Clarice. "The Martian spaceships can barely reach across this galaxy. Santa has no way to cross the intergalactic void. He can't even get as far as the Larger and Smaller Magellanic Clouds, let alone the Andromeda Galaxy."

Rudolph said, "That's why he had his techs develop the Reindeer's Horn, so he could continue to propagate his empire in other directions. Clarice sabotaged it so it would only go to one alternate universe, and take only a handful of people to an isolated, uninhabited world. There wasn't supposed to be anyone or anything interesting there."

Clarice said, "But that wormhole device of yours piqued Santa's interest. He had his techs study it and discovered its function. He believes he can use it to find and conquer a world with interstellar spaceships and use them to spread his rule throughout your galaxy. When you and your friends came through the wormhole, he decided he had a golden opportunity to learn a little more about how the civilizations in your reality were organized."

Makepeace nodded. "To get an estimate about how much trouble we'd be."

"Yes. Santa didn't specifically target you personally, he just wanted someone from your universe who engaged in interstellar travel, and knew something about 'the lay of the land,' as it were."

"Santa's got a big surprise coming his way when he runs into the Goa'uld," Makepeace said, smirking a little at the idea. At the confused looks he received, he added, "They're a mean bunch of SOBs who've already carved themselves something of an empire. They don't take kindly to competition."

"Many worlds did not take kindly to Santa's rule," Girmar said. "But that didn't save them."

Makepeace said, "So you people are all part of the Martian rebellion?"

Rudolph said, "The rebellion has spread to many of the conquered worlds. Our cell here is protected by King Moonracer's magic. Santa can't touch us as long as we're on this island, but we're vulnerable when we leave it."

"My god, it's a Star Wars Christmas special," Makepeace muttered. Complete with the local version of magic Jedis in the form of flying reindeer and the winged lion king. He felt like giggling. Rudolph's Rebels. Sure. Why not?

Clarice said, "Now we just have to find a way to send you home. We must somehow get control of the Reindeer's Horn."

"Whatever you're planning, you'd better do it quick," said a worried looking elf. He showed Clarice and Rudolph a computer printout. "Here's the latest surveillance report on Santa's activities."

"Oh no," said Rudolph. "Not so soon."

"What's the problem?" asked Makepeace.

Clarice said, "It seems Santa hasn't given up on his plan to question someone from your universe. He's going to abduct one or more of your friends, tonight. They're still on the planet, apparently looking for you. Santa wants to grab one before they all get away."

That was certainly bad news. The last thing Makepeace needed was for his team to land in the same kind of trouble he was in. He definitely didn't want any of them to find out first hand how happy Hermey was with his pliers. "We have to do something," he said, remembering how easily the elf commandos had snatched him. "My men won't have a chance against that stealth field. Can I see that report?"

He scanned the paper the elf handed him. Seven men were now on PH1-225. SG-3 must have reported his disappearance and obtained some help in the search. That many people available would make the commandos' job even easier. "When I was kidnapped, we arrived at a spot outside Christmas Town."

Clarice nodded. "Yes, the Reindeer's Horn won't function properly inside Christmas Town's defensive screens. Too much energy interference."

"Then we can set up an ambush for them. They probably won't be expecting you to venture from this island so soon after your last strike. If we take them by surprise—"

Rudolph said with enthusiasm, "They'll never know what hit them! And we'll gain control of the Reindeer's Horn."

Clarice said, "We'll send you home, then destroy the Horn. I deleted all the schematics and documentation for the Horn before I left the palace. They'll never be able to build a new one without that data. At least your universe will be safe."

"Even better, we'll have stopped Santa's expansion dead," said Rudolph, clearly relishing the idea of putting a spoke in Santa's wheels. "Let's do it."


	7. Chapter 7

Once again, Makepeace flew through the cold winter's night, clinging to a reindeer's back. This time, though, he was snuggled into a nice, heavy parka and gloves that King Moonracer's aides had found in a back room. It was a lot easier to face the wind chill factor from behind a shield of good, warm down.

Overhead the Northern Lights danced, rippling in a fantastic display of color. Rudolph's Rebels, as Makepeace had privately taken to calling them, had thought the aurora a good omen. Makepeace thought the lights might ruin the ambush by making them too easily spotted. Clarice had told him they had a tweaked version of the stealth field, one that Santa's Elves could only penetrate at very close range. How else could they disguise Rudolph's glowing nose on these kinds of missions? Besides, there was plenty of natural cover available.

Makepeace honestly didn't recall if there was any cover at the site or not. He was embarrassed to admit he'd been too freaked out about the Christmas elves and his own mental health to notice many details about his surroundings. Even now, he wasn't entirely sure if this odd adventure was real or not. The various and assorted fantasy characters, and their magic mixed with technology, made belief difficult.

The reindeer herd—flock?—landed near an outcropping of ice-covered rock. Makepeace dismounted and went to take a look. The aurora borealis provided adequate illumination for a visual inspection of the area. Multicolored light washed over the land, reflected off the snowy terrain and shimmered on ice crystals. The rocky barrier the rebels hid behind traveled in a jagged line as far as Makepeace could see in both directions, like a miniature mountain range. On the other side lay an endless, glacial plain.

The Martian woman, Girmar, moved beside him. "Santa's Elves usually operate the Horn over there, although Clarice and Rudolph have scouts watching the roads out of Christmas Town in case they decide to go somewhere else." She pointed at a flat, nondescript stretch of ice roughly fifty meters beyond the rocks. "That is the place where you arrived on our world."

It all looked the same to Makepeace. He sat down with his back against a hunk of granite. "I'll have to take your word for it."

Girmar settled down next to him. "May I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, shoot."

Her face scrunched up in puzzlement. "At what?"

He repressed a sigh, and explained, "It means you can ask your question."

"Forgive me, I haven't quite figured out all those strange human expressions, yet." She looked at him, almost hesitantly. "Clarice said you told Santa's court that Mars was a dead planet in your reality. Is that true?"

He studied her, considering. Although these people claimed to be friends, he'd been careful to say nothing substantive about home to them. Still, he didn't see that talking about Mars would compromise Earth, especially considering how little he knew about the subject. "Yes, I told them the truth."

"There's nothing there at all?"

Makepeace thought back to a few news reports he'd seen. "Oh, I think some scientists have speculated that microbes might once have lived there, before the water vanished, but to date no one's found any incontestable evidence. There are certainly no people living there. It's simply not habitable for our kind of life."

"Oh." She looked crestfallen. "I thought perhaps you were just trying to upset Governor Dropo."

He half smiled. "I was. Why lie when the truth will work as well, if not better?"

"I understand. It's just that I had hoped... Oh, well."

"I'm sorry." He wondered if she had hoped to hear of long-lost relatives, or a flourishing and independent version of her own civilization. He was sorry he'd had to disappoint her. "Many things are very different between our two universes."

"That does seem to be true. It's just as well we're going to close the door between them."

Makepeace couldn't argue with that. He had no desire to see Evil Santa set up shop back home. The Goa'uld alone were more than enough trouble. Earth didn't need any more enemies.

Girmar checked her chronometer and stood up. "We should prepare. The elves will be coming soon."

A short time later, word went out that Santa's Elves were approaching. Rudolph's Rebels got into position for their ambush. Elves and Martians were mounted singly and in pairs on the flying reindeer, armed with stun sticks taken during previous encounters with Santa's guards. Makepeace turned his stick over in his gloved hands. An elf had showed him how to use the device. The stunners operated on a simple touch mechanism. The trick was knowing where the control area was located.

The evil things also had a nasty variety of non-stun settings, many of which weren't limited to physical contact with the business end of the stick. Makepeace thanked all the powers that be that Emperor Santa had required him to be both living and functional.

Some of the reindeer flew farther down the rock barrier and vanished from sight in convenient cracks. Clarice moved into position behind a boulder covered with sharp edges. She looked over at Makepeace. "Stay with me. We might not have more than one opportunity to get at the Horn."

Makepeace knew a warning when he heard one. He had long since decided that Clarice was the brains of this outfit, and probably the only rebel who knew how to run the transdimensional portal. He knew she planned to destroy the thing, whether he made it home or not. Having no desire to be stranded here, he determined to stick to her tighter than Superglue, and climbed onto her back to wait for the attack.

A group of sixteen elves walked across the landscape toward the rocks. They were laden with backpacks and candy-weapons. Three of them marched alongside a familiar looking contraption: an oversized cornucopia on wheels. The Reindeer's Horn.

Santa's Elves drew a little closer, then stopped. Makepeace recognized Commander Tinsel, and that mean SOB Jingles, and the others as well. This was the same bunch that had abducted him. A feral grin spread across his face. Maybe he'd get a little payback before he left this whacked-out universe forever.

Makepeace gave himself a mental shake at that train of thought. When had he started buying into his own delusions? Make up your mind, he told himself. Hallucination or parallel reality. Pick one and stick with it.

The commando elves stayed put. Looked like they planned to stay for a while, probably to set up and operate the Horn device. Ambush time, Makepeace thought.

Right on cue, Rudolph yelled, "Charge!"

Almost in unison, the rebel reindeer bounded up and over the barrier of rock and ice, flying straight at their adversaries, their riders firing pale pink energy beams from the peppermint sticks. As Makepeace clutched Clarice's neck to keep from falling, he spared a brief, regretful thought for the lost opportunity to use the stealth field to steal up on the elves. Clarice had said Santa's Elves could detect it at close range, but even a token attempt at sneakiness would have been nice. Then all critical thoughts fled as Clarice cut hard to the right, deftly avoiding the volley of mint green light rays that arrowed upwards. Santa's Elves were shooting back.

The rebel reindeer performed a startling but effective series of evasive maneuvers, and then they were upon Santa's Elves. Pastel laser light flew thick and furious, insults and threats were shouted back and forth. Clarice dodged through the chaos and made for the Reindeer's Horn and its three guards. Makepeace didn't need the doe's shouted warning to aim his peppermint stick and sweep the area with candy-pink fire, although he only stunned the hostile trio. He couldn't bring himself to kill Christmas elves. Too much cultural baggage, he supposed.

Clarice landed next to the device. Makepeace dismounted and took up a defensive position while she did whatever the heck a reindeer could do to a piece of high tech equipment using only hooves and teeth. Makepeace didn't think too hard about it. Some evil elves noticed the capture of the Horn, and started closing in, laying down offensive fire. Makepeace shot back, stunning one. A rebel buck landed nearby and two Martians jumped off his back to assist holding off Santa's Elves.

Clarice shouted over the bedlam, "I'm almost ready. Get into position!"

Makepeace had no idea where that might be. He left the defense to the buck and two Martians, and jogged over to her. "Where?"

She said, "I've set the radius to one meter. That's as small as I can make it. You need to be standing inside the radius when inversion occurs."

"Inversion?"

"Just stand there." She pointed her chin at a spot next to the cornucopia. "The Horn is programmed to self-destruct sixty seconds after inversion is complete. I can't change that, so you need to get as far away as possible just as soon as you get home."

"That's not much time. How big will the blast be?"

She looked thoughtful. "It probably won't be so much an explosion as an implosion. I don't know exactly what'll happen, though. No one's ever done this before. I just know it would be better if you weren't in the immediate vicinity."

Terrific. He'd have to hit the ground running. Nothing was coming easy today, was it?

A blast of mint green laser fire sizzled in the nearby snow. Clarice jumped. "You've got to go. Now."

Makepeace stood in the indicated spot, and stared into the Horn's bell. Nothing but darkness in there, at least at the moment.

Clarice said, "Activating the Horn. Inversion in ten seconds." She skittered away from the controls, out of the device's one meter range.

A bass note reverberated through the air, drowning out the sounds of battle. The tone dropped lower and deeper, until at last it could not be heard by human ears. Again Makepeace felt the uncomfortable vibration in his chest and bones.

The Horn grew. Within its bell could be seen the green and brown of fir trees, pines, ferns, the hard-packed dirt of PH1-225's forest, and the soft gray light of an overcast, daytime sky. Still the Horn expanded, larger and larger, while the vision of the forest became clearer and clearer.

Makepeace braced himself an instant before everything turned inside out.

His stomach roiled, nausea swept over him. The inversion seemed to last forever. Then, with a shocking wrench, reality locked into place. Makepeace reeled, barely kept himself from throwing up, and stared at his new environment. Gone was the brutal, frozen North Pole; now PH1-225's gentle forest surrounded him. The Reindeer's Horn had worked, he was home—or at least, back in his own universe, which as far as he was concerned was just as good.

Sixty seconds, Clarice had said. He swallowed his nausea and ran for his life.

Behind him came a sick humming noise, then a great, sucking _whoomp_ shook the earth and trees. A howling wind rushed backward, dragging leaves, sticks, dust, and other loose items back toward the Reindeer's Horn. Makepeace fought against it, leaning into the gale, arms raised to protect his face from the flying projectiles. The wind pulled in harder, and harder, then abruptly stopped.

There was a terrifying moment of utter, preternatural stillness, then a violent shock wave exploded outward. Makepeace was flung forward by the driving force, and crashed into the unyielding trees.


	8. Chapter 8

Consciousness returned painfully. Makepeace groaned as a startling number of aches and pains made themselves known. His head especially was killing him. He was lying face down in the dirt, his head turned to one side. A rock poked his left cheek, but he couldn't bring himself to move just yet so he just lay there, listening to the forest noises and the ringing in his ears.

"Jesus, what the hell was that?"

A man's voice. Sounded kind of familiar, but with his ears ringing so badly, and his thinking so foggy, Makepeace couldn't quite identify it.

"I dunno, Major, but it came from over this way!" another voice called.

His brain finally started functioning enough to place the voices. Ferretti and Whitaker from SG-2. They sounded close. He ought to call out, let them know he was here. With an effort, he moved the pinky on his right hand. That worked okay. He moved an arm, a leg, and then forced himself up on his elbows. Good. He was still alive, after all. Nice to know.

"I'm over here!" he shouted, then grabbed his head in his hands. Pain lanced through his skull, throbbing, like his brain wanted to explode. Despite the discomfort, he tried again. "Ferretti, here!"

The effects of that second shout were no kinder than the first. Fortunately, he heard the two men running in his direction. They broke through the brush, saw him, and rushed forward.

"Colonel Makepeace!" Ferretti said. "Are you all right? Sir!"

Makepeace grimaced at the loud words. "Don't shout, please. I feel like I've got the world's worst hangover."

Ferretti said to Whitaker, "Get on the horn, let everyone know we've found the colonel."

Even though Ferretti had lowered his voice, Makepeace groaned again as his headache worsened. Ferretti helped him sit up and rest his back against a tree. "Are you all right, Colonel? You've got a pretty bad cut on your forehead." He touched the injury lightly, and Makepeace winced. Ferretti said, "Got some swelling there, too. You might have a concussion. Whitaker, get the first aid kit."

Makepeace became aware that he was hot. Sweating, in fact. "I'm roasting," he complained, and pulled off his gloves. He stared at those items. Guess the whole misbegotten adventure had been real, after all. Too bad. A dream would have been much easier to accept.

Ferretti said, "I'm not surprised, what with that parka you've got on. Where'd you get it, Colonel? It's not SGC issue."

Oooh, explanation time. Makepeace wasn't sure he was up to that. How was he supposed to explain Christmas Town, Evil Santa, and Rudolph's Rebels, anyway? With a sinking sensation, he recalled how Doctor Jackson had been temporarily transported to a parallel reality only a little different from their own, had even been seriously injured there by a Jaffa staff weapon, and yet his story still hadn't been believed right away, not even by his own teammates. It had taken a Goa'uld attack on Earth to convince all the doubters. Makepeace was pretty sure of the reaction he'd receive if he started babbling about Christmas elves and flying reindeer. He'd have to go about this very carefully if he didn't want to get locked up in a funny farm.

He must have looked confused, since Ferretti asked, "Can you remember anything about what happened to you?"

Amnesia. Now there was an angle worth considering. With his head injury, he figured he could get away with that, at least for a little while.

Ferretti continued, "It must have had something to do with that explosion. Do you know what that was?"

Oh, sure, he knew. An interdimensional transport device called the Reindeer's Horn had been destroyed so Santa Claus couldn't conquer this universe. That ought to go over well. To avoid the question, he started to take off his parka. Something of a struggle, since his body didn't feel much like cooperating.

"Here, I'll give you a hand with that," Ferretti said.

Between the two of them, they managed to get the hot parka off. Makepeace immediately felt better. At least he had some tangible evidence of his experiences. He looked around but couldn't locate the peppermint stick weapon. He must have lost it, either in inversion or during the destruction of the Horn. That was too bad. A weapon like that would have done a lot to validate his story. However, the parka, gloves, and a few pointed reminders about Doctor Jackson's experiences ought to make everyone more open-minded about this kind of weird crap. As long as he kept his explanations dispassionate and rational... He closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to make Santa Claus, Emperor of the Galaxy, sound rational.

Whitaker had bandaged Makepeace's head and begun treating some of his other wounds when Johnson and the rest of SG-3 burst on the scene. They were panting, out of breath like they'd run the whole way. Johnson dropped to his knees next to Makepeace, saying, "Colonel, thank God you're all right. We've been searching for hours. Where have you been?"

Nope, he wasn't going to answer that one yet. Makepeace asked, "How long?"

"You've been missing for over eight hours. What happened to you, Colonel? It was like you vanished off the face of the Earth."

"Off the face of PH1-225, at any rate," Makepeace muttered.

"What, sir?"

"You didn't find any evidence of Goa'uld occupation here, did you?"

Johnson gave him a funny look at the change of subject. "No, sir. Just that odd monument by the Stargate."

"Well, that's something, at least." Makepeace leaned back against the tree trunk and stared off into space.

Johnson and Ferretti exchanged a concerned glance. "The head injury, you think?" Johnson said.

Ferretti shrugged. "He's seemed a bit disoriented ever since we found him, and he hasn't been able to tell us anything about what happened to him. We'd better get him back to the infirmary."

"Yeah, you do that," Makepeace said.

_***** End *****_

December, 2003


End file.
